Something Wicked This Way Comes
by Troublemaker-In-Chief
Summary: It was just a normal day, as days normally are. The students of Hogwarts, the Marauders especially, were all excited for the upcoming Halloween. Everyone was trying to ignore the dark, frightening stories in the paper, about the ones called the Death Eaters. Surely it was just all talk, just paranoia. Yes, it was just a normal day...until Sirius overheard something strange.
1. Double, double, toil and trouble

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, of course, dears.**

**Author's note: If you're a reader of my other story, Light Up the Sky, thank you so much for reading, really. You guys all make my day. I hope you enjoy this story, which is slightly similar in concept to that one, only not entirely. Enjoy!**

* * *

It had just been an average October night at Hogwarts. Halloween decorations had begun to appear all over the castle as they always did, orange banners blooming like flowers, pumpkins sprouting up all over in unsuspecting places - "like an embarrassing rash," Sirius said to Peter, who blushed - and the ghosts were humming happily, soaring about with the air of someone on their birthday. Halloween was approaching and the students of Hogwarts were all in high spirits.

Sure, there had been a few scares over the summer, gruesome articles in The Daily Prophet about the so-called "Death Eaters", with the murders of muggle-borns and such. But everyone was turning over a new leaf now, putting the paranoia behind them and moving forward with the new school year, with the promise of Halloween and all the excitement it brought with it. Surely this 'Voldemort' fellow wouldn't cause too much trouble, Sirius thought for the hundredth time as he stuffed the pockets of his robes with leftover pumpkin pies from dinner, and treacle tarts to bring up to James. It was just the media overreacting to everything, as they always did. If Dumbledore stepped outside of his house without his robes on, there would be headlines in the Daily Prophet about the apocalypse.

Well, Sirius thought to himself as he ran up the winding, torch lit staircase to Gryffindor tower, that _would_ be rather frightening. Perhaps that _would_ be a sign of the coming apocalypse.

He shoved half a treacle tart in his mouth hungrily - James would bash him over the head with a couch cushion for that later on in the common room - and wiped his hands on his robes - which Remus would scold him for later on in the common room, clicking his tongue as he turned over his parchment to extend his already-adequate Transfiguration essay - and racked his brain for more pranks he and James could pull before the night's end. It was only eight o' clock and they had barely accomplished any hi-jinks, due to James' insufferable slobbering over Evans. He'd really stepped in it earlier when she overheard him explaining to a group of first years outside of Herbology exactly how gingers steal souls from unsuspecting children, and he'd been trying to make it up to her ever since, but the fiery redhead hadn't been responding to any of the owls he'd sent her, and only spoke a few times to snap, "Potter, stop sending me owls! We are INDOORS! Speak to me IN PERSON!" And then when he tried to speak to her in person, she'd storm off in a rage, seeking the comfort of her Hufflepuff boyfriend, Comicus Diggle, "whose name is comicus enough," James always said.

Yes, it was just a normal night. Even when Sirius spotted pieces of parchment with the Dark Mark drawn on them hanging in the corridor, ("ruddy Slytherins," Sirius said in a tone that would almost sound affectionate), he shrugged it off, choosing to draw mustaches on the snake's gruesome faces with his wand rather than run and tell a professor. Only after he stopped to admire his handiwork did he realize he was not at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

The portrait of The Fat Lady was not at the top of the stairs as it should have been, nor were the usual suits of armor that flanked her; the corridor was too wide, as well, with not as many torches to light the stone walls. He realized at once he was outside of Dumbledore's office.

The stairs must have moved again, Sirius realized with a groan. Now he would have to walk down three more flights of stairs to get back on track, and he only had two treacle tarts left for the road. James would surely sock him one when Sirius came back with only a pocketful of crumbs.

"Sorry, Prongs, but a man's got to eat," Sirius said as he went to take another out. "I'm a growing boy of seventeen, after all..."

But then he stopped and remembered how upset James had looked, when he saw Evans cuddling up to Diggle after Herbology, fuming over the ginger joke. Sirius supposed her anger had less to do with the actual joke and more to do with the fact that James said "hold onto your souls, kids, here comes one now" when Lily approached them, but he digressed; he ignored the growling of his stomach and put the treacle tart away to save for James. The boy could use the comfort food.

He was about to head back down and start on his long journey to Gryffindor tower, cursing the stairs for moving so bloody often, when he stopped at the sound of shouting.

Curious, Sirius looked down the hall to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. It had to have been coming from there.

He couldn't exactly make out words, only a frantic tone, muffled by layers of wall and stone. Who was getting expeled?, he wondered. Sirius crept down the hall, careful to tiptoe around squeaking or anything else that would make noise. He wanted to hear this.  
Hopefully they're making Professor Flitwick shave his beard, Sirius thought. That would cause the little man a lot of turmoil.

But no, the voice wasn't the sound of the little old professor. Nor was it the cries of his cousin Hugens Black, who Sirius thought might be lamenting getting caught hexing a muggleborn or using the Imperius curse to get a date, or something equally amusing. And surely if it was something minor, like the former, Professor Slughorn would be the one to deal with it, and if it was something Unforgivable, such as the latter, the Ministry would be dealing with it.

Who would be shouting in Dumbledore's office?

Sirius was about to turn around and head back to the Gryffindor common room, because it was not his place to spy or eavesdrop, and whatever was going on was none of his business.

But then with a scoff remembered he was Sirius Black and no man's business was off limits to him and so he went on forward anyway.

"Ice mice," he said to the gargoyle, which creaked open. Sirius grinned. He knew some good would come out of that trip to the headmaster last week, when Professor McGonagall had dragged him by the ear to explain to Dumbledore how exactly a live owl ended up on his dinner plate.

As he entered the little stairwell, the yelling grew louder and clearer, carrying down to where Sirius stood. It wasn't a voice he recognized, he realized as he tiptoed up the steps. There were other voices, too, shouting back.

"Enough of this nonsense, Albus!" he heard Professor Slughorn saying. "He's clearly a spy."

"I'm not a spy!"

"He's a spy, Albus," Slughorn went on. "A spy from the Ministry, no doubt. Fudge is always sticking his big nose in our business, trying to see what we're teaching here. Always accusing me of meddling with the Dark Arts. Well, I say!"

"I'm not a bloody spy! But there is a spy here, a spy for Voldemort!"

"Don't say that name!" Slughorn shouted. "He's nothing. He's just a rumor. Just a silly little rumor, just some paranoia stirred up by Rita Skeeter and the like."

"Who even _are_ you?" the boy shouted. "Why are you being ridiculous?"

"Horace, please lower your voice," Professor Dumbledore said. Sirius held his breath on the stair, his mind racing. "Spy or no spy, he's just a boy. Old enough to be a student. A second year, from the looks of him."

"Third year," the unfamiliar voice corrected, and Sirius realized at once it was a young boy. "As you already _know_, professor! This isn't funny! Why are you pretending not to recognize me?_ And let go of me!"_

Sirius crept further up the stairs, his back pressed firmly against the stone wall.

"I see," Dumbledore said, and Sirius could just imagine him peering over his spectacles with a sparkle in his eye. Why were his eyes always sparkling and twinkling, anyway? Did someone hit him square in the retina with a glitter hex when he was a young lad and it just never wore off? Sirius shook his head and paid attention to the matter at hand. "Well, this is certainly an interesting story, at least. Whether a lie cooked up by Voldemort himself -"

"Albus!" Slughorn shouted.

"Or by the Ministry, as Horace thinks," Dumbledore went on. "- it still is, undeniably, interesting."

"Professor," the boy said pleadingly. "You've got to listen to me. Why are you being like this?"

Sirius was immensely curious. The boy had a Gryffindor-ly sound to his voice, Sirius liked to think, although he wouldn't be able to explain how or why he thought that, to anyone who didn't know what he meant. He couldn't explain it ; there was just a certain tone most Gryffindors carried - loud and obnoxious, as Slytherins, including Sirius' mother might say, or bold and courageous, as most liked to think, like their words came straight from the heart, or from their stomachs, if they were hungry, as Sirius currently was. James' treacle tarts were burning a hole in his pocket that he could feel all the way to his stomach, and he would've turned around and headed back to the kitchens if he wasn't so immensely curious as to what was going on.

The boy must've been a Gryffindor, but it was odd, because Sirius didn't recognize his voice. He prided himself on knowing mostly everyone in his house, if not the entire school, save for the first years and the few quiet Slytherins he and James didn't quarrel with. But this boy - he couldn't place a face to the voice. And why had he said 'who even are you?' to Professor Slughorn. Surely any student at this school would recognize the bloody potions teacher.

Like the handy Marauder Sirius was proud to be, he dug into the pocket of his robes and took out the mirror he'd mostly used to communicate with James with, and held it up, angling it just right at the top of the door so he could see who he was looking at.  
Confusion struck him across the face like a scorned woman.

_Who in Merlin's name -?_ Sirius thought, utterly baffled, adjusting the mirror and tapping it with his wand to zoom in on the boy standing beside Dumbledore's desk, while Slughorn and a tall, hulking fellow gripping him by the arms as if he were a prisoner. Sirius recognized the man as the arithmancy teacher, but he recognized the young boy as two people, two entirely different people, who could not possibly be more opposite if they tried their hardest, which they sometimes did, yet they were both present there in that young boy's face.

The mirror nearly slipped from his hand. His mind was boggled.

_WHO_ in _MERLIN'S NAME?,_ he thought again as he stared at the young, panicked face in the mirror, and Horace's suspicious glare boring down on the top of the boy's head, the familiar, dark, thick-haired head.

"Whatever's going on here," Professor Sprout said, startling Sirius, who hadn't known she too was in the office. "We mustn't tell James Potter. Not just yet."

Slughorn nodded in agreement, as did the arithmancy bloke.

"Well, I'm afraid not telling James is out of the question," Dumbledore said and looked straight into the mirror. "Because Sirius Black is standing outside the door listening to our every word."

The only thing Sirius could manage to think was that James would _really _be needing that treacle tart.

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**Please review, my lovelies! It encourages me to continue, as I'm really quite a person and need encouragement from time to time in order to function.**


	2. Fire burn and cauldron bubble

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, of course. All credit to the almighty queen Rowling.**

**Author's note: Thank you so much for reviewing so quickly, you guys. Thanks to you, I've written this new chapter already. Let me know what you think!**

**Also, someone asked how old the Marauders are in this fic. I'm not entirely sure about the exact date of birth of all the Marauders, but they're all in their seventh year here, and I imagine them to be eighteen.**

* * *

Sirius froze, held prisoner by Albus Dumbledore's gaze. Even in the reflection, he could see that annoying twinkle in his eyes.

"Do come in, Sirius," Dumbledore said with a wry smile. "It can't be very fun loitering out on the stairwell."

He wondered if the wise headmaster cast a wordless jelly legs jinx on him, because when he barrelled forward into the room, his legs felt as if they'd been rendered into mush. He stumbled into an end table, rattling the phoenix cage perched there, and jumped at the sound it made. He looked back and forth from Dumbledore to the boy, as if he were watching a tennis match. At first he tried not to make it obvious he was staring, but gave up on that pretense and resorted to downright ogling the boy, stopping just short of reaching out and grabbing his familiar-looking face.

"Sirius!" the young boy cried. "You're alright! You...look different, though. Have you showered or something? And cut your hair? And...gained a lot of weight."

Sirius indignantly glanced down at his stomach for a moment, wondering if he'd eaten too many of those pumpkin pies, before realizing he'd never even met this boy before.

"Do I - have we met?" Sirius said. "Who - who ARE you? Why do you look like -?"

"Sirius, tell Dumbledore why I'm here," the boy said. "They don't believe me! They think I'm a spy! Why would I be a spy?"

Sirius stared, his mind droning as if it were filled with hundreds of bees. He blinked stupidly.

"Who _are _you?"

The boy turned back to Dumbledore and said, "I don't understand. Do you think I'm a Death Eater under polyjuice potion, or something? Because I'm _not._ I couldn't be. I've been here for over an hour and I haven't drank anything; you _know _it can't be that."

"I'm fairly certain you're not under a polyjuice potion," the headmaster said. "However, the matter of who you are is still a question."

"This is _ridiculous," _ the boy shouted again. "I don't know what all of your problems are -" the boy said, then looked at Slughorn and said, "or who _you _are, but we're wasting time. I am who you think I am."

"I think you're a spy," Horace said, only to be quelled with a glare from Professor Sprout.

"He's just a child," she said.

"A child spy."

"What is your name, then?" Professor Sprout asked the boy kindly.

"My _name _is Harry Potter," the boy said quite indignantly. "And you've all lost your bloody minds."

* * *

"I'm losing my bloody mind," Lily said with a frustrated sigh, tearing her fingers through her long, red hair. "I am _losing _my _bloody _mind."

"You're not losing your bloody mind, Lily," Marlene Mckinnon said gently. "You're losing your hair. It's because you keep pulling it out."

Lily shot her a glare.

"But honestly," Marlene said. "I don't know why you're giving Potter so much thought. I thought you were happy with Comicus."

"It's just - he's so _frustrating."_

"Yeah, Comicus can be pretty annoying."

"Wait, what?" Lily said. "I was talking about Potter."

"Oh. So was I, then."

"I just," Lily sighed. "I don't know why we keep playing this game. Why we keep going in circles. Can't he ever just behave like a decent human being to me? I don't get it."

"Why are you so mad that he made a ginger joke, though?" Marlene said. "You've never cared about those stupid jokes before. And it was, after all, a joke."

"I don't know, it just bothered me."

"I know what it is," Marlene said, suddenly sitting upright in the armchair by the fire. The Gryffindor common room was crowded with students who were all hastily finishing their homework, or watching the Marauders play a rather violent game of Exploding Snap at the other side of the room. Only the Marauders, Lily thought, could make that game physically threatening. "You're not mad at Potter for the joke."

"Oh, I'm not?" Lily said coolly, crossing her arms. "Then what, pray tell, am I mad at him for?"

Marlene grinned.

"Stop grinning, Marlene, you freak," Lily said. "You look like a serial killer."

"You're just cross with him because during breakfast Rachel Woodland was talking about how she snogged him last Hogsmeade weekend!" Marlene said, looking pleased with herself for figuring it out. "Oh, Lil. Jealousy is a fickle friend."

"Shut up! I'm not jealous," Lily said as she furiously began scribbling the last of her potions essay on poisons and the gruesome boils they cause. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly imagining Rachel Woodland covered in boils, or why it brought her a grim satisfaction. "Like I would ever be jealous of that slag kissing that huge git Potter, when I have a handsome prince like Comicus."

"Yeah. Comicus," Marlene nodded, stifling a yawn. "What a catch."

"Yes, he is," Lily agreed stiffly.

Once she calmed down quite a bit, she felt a bit bad for calling Rachel Woodland a slag, but not bad enough to verbally retract the statement. She still couldn't believe it. Potter had _snogged _her. Last Hogsmeade weekend.

A week after Lily had pulled him into a broom cupboard and kissed him.

She blushed furiously, hiding behind a curtain of her hair as she finished the conclusion paragraph of her essay. She'd never admit it out loud, lest she perform the Avada Kedavra on herself, about how Potter had been joking about how the two of them were getting so close and cozy lately, now that they've put their arguing behind them, and that they should just get hitched already, and she'd rolled her eyes and walked away, only to stop at the end of the hall and go running back, and dragged him into the nearest cupboard and kissed him like she'd never kissed anyone before.

She also would not admit that the Amortentia potion she'd made in class the other day smelled not like cotton and soap, as Comicus did, but deliciously like butterbeer and broomstick polish, and the grass on the Quidditch pitch, and whatever peppermint smelling shampoo Potter used in his perpetually messy hair.

No, she would never say it; she and James would never be. Nothing would ever come from the two of them. Not like her and Comicus.

She looked across the room to where James sat, looking bored without Sirius, and inexplicably sad for some reason. She thought, for a moment, then when she looked up at him, he quickly looked away from her, but she must've imagined it.

She made herself wonder what Comicus was doing at that very moment, but found she didn't very much care. She couldn't even make herself care. She couldn't even make herself pretend to care. She couldn't even trick herself into pretending to make herself care.

She _did_ wonder what James was looking at. He was hunched over a sheet of parchment now, looking oddly quizzical. She wanted to go over to him and look, but she wasn't on good terms with him today. Yesterday, she would've gone over and playfully took the paper out of his hands and took a look for herself, but not today.

"What's Potter looking at?" Lily wondered aloud.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Evans," Marlene said. She turned around and looked at James for herself. "I think it's that stupid map the Marauders have."

"The map?"

"Yes, the secret one they tell everyone about."

"The one that shows the castle and everyone in it?" Lily said. "I looked at it once before. Sirius left it lying out on a table when he was distracted, and I only got a quick peek before he caught me staring and gathered it up in his arms, and gave me this accusatory glare, as if it were his firstborn child and I wanted to kidnap it."

"I wonder why he looks so confused," Marlene said, looking over at James curiously.

"Maybe he's spotted Sirius and he's _not _in detention," Lily said. "That would confuse anyone."

"Or maybe he sees Filch having tea in Hagrid's hut."

"Perhaps he sees a muggleborn Hufflepuff in the Slytherin dormitory?"

"Perhaps he sees Professor Dumbledore in the hidden swimming pool."

"We've got a hidden swimming pool here at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, didn't you know? Oh, perhaps he sees Sirius dancing with Severus."

"Or maybe he just sees Rachel Woodland," Lily said with a frown.

Marlene looked over at Lily, scoffing.

"Why would he look confused at seeing Rachel Woodland? Just Rachel Woodland, on her own? Why not say he sees Rachel Woodland having a row with Mary McDonald, or Rachel Woodland kayaking in the dungeons? Have some imagination, honestly, Lily."

* * *

"Potter?" Sirius repeated. "Your surname is Potter?"

"Sirius, why are you being a git?" The boy called Harry snapped. "Of course my surname is Potter."

"I don't understand. Who _are _you?"

"I'm your _godson_, you tosser," Harry said.

"Godson? I haven't got any godson!"

"You're absolutely hilarious. I'm in hysterics," Harry said flatly.

"Who are your parents?" Sirius asked, almost in a daze. His heart was beating so hard he was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

Harry looked like Sirius had punched him in the stomach. The boy let out a shocked breath, his eyebrows knitting together as he bit his lip.

"That's not funny," he said, looking hurt.

_"Who are your parents?" _Sirius repeated. He felt rather dizzy. The room was pinwheeling around, colors bleeding together, everything hazy and blurred except for the perfect clarity of the boy's green eyes. _Evans' eyes. _

What was going on? Was the stupid twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes starting to blind Sirius? Was that why he was seeing this boy here, this boy who looked like Lily and James, enough like both of them to be their _child, _yet could not possibly be?

Yes, that was it. Dumbledore's eye sparkles got in Sirius' eye and was doing funny things to his head. Nothing to worry about.

"Lily and James Potter," Harry said in a strange voice, with a strange look Sirius didn't know what to make of.

_ "Rubbish."_

"Now, now, Sirius," Dumbledore said. "Why don't we listen to what he has to say?"

"Slughorn was right!" Sirius shouted. "He's got to be a spy! Lily and James' son? That makes absolutely no sense, in any universe, because first of all, this kid's got to be - what, twelve? They're eighteen! Also, they're not even dating! I really can't recall Lily mentioning being pregnant when she was five, or James impregnating her!"

"Sirius-"

"This is rubbish!"

"Hear, hear," Slughorn said.

"What is your problem?" Harry shouted, looking to be on the verge of tears. "I'm only here because of _you, _you know, because you _had _to leave Grimmauld Place and get yourself captured by a bunch of Aurors."

"What do you know about Grimmauld Place? _Who are you?"_

"Dumbledore told me to go back in time twenty-two days," Harry said, reaching under his collar and retrieving something gold and glimmering on a chain. Professor Sprout gasped; Slughorn looked awed; the arithmancy teacher was so stunned he momentarily let go of Harry's arm. "He told me to go back to the night I met you, in the Shrieking Shack, to stop Wormtail from getting away."

Sirius felt like he'd been suckerpunched. Wormtail? The Shrieking Shack? Grimmauld Place was one thing, but this was something else altogether. No one from the Ministry would know about that, and neither would Voldemort and his goons.

"Forgive me for interrupting," Dumbledore said lightly, a friendly smile on his face. Everyone looked over to him. "But I must ask something - Harry, my dear boy, I see you have a Time Turner there. If what you're saying is true, is it within the realm of possibility that you mistakenly went back twenty-two _years, _instead of twenty-two _days, _as I allegedly instructed?"

Harry froze for a moment, looking baffled. He glanced down at the Time Turner in his hands, then looked back up at Sirius with wide eyes.

No one said a word. Heavy silence descended upon the room.

The arithmancy teacher cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna go," he said, slowly making his way for the door. "You lot have fun with this."

"Yes, yes, I'd better be going too," Professor Sprout said, slowly backing up, looking at Harry incredulously. "Do tell me how...all of this turns out. Send an owl. Goodbye!"

"Oh, I'm not leaving," Slughorn said. "This is all too exciting! Oh, what is the future like, future Potter? Do tell me! Oh, you could join the Slug Club! I've never had someone from the future befo -"

He was cut off by Professor Sprout seizing his arm and dragging him toward the door along with him. The door shut a moment later, cutting off Slughorn's muffled cry of, "Do get back to me on that invitation!"

All was silent once more, except for the whirring of the strange, silver devices all around Dumbledore's vast office. Sirius and Harry only stared at each other with wide, incredulous eyes.

"Tea?" Dumbledore suggested to the shell shocked pair.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review, lovelies!

Tootles!


	3. Something wicked this way comes

**Author's note: I'm terribly sorry this chapter is so short. As many of you might've noticed, if you live in the US - or anywhere with a blazing hot climate - it's gotten mighty hot incredibly fast and in the middle of writing this I felt as if I was going to die of heat stroke, so I had to cut it short. I will be updating again tomorrow, though. I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"Ah," Dumbledore said as he set his teacup down on his desk with a satisfied smile. "There is truly nothing better than a nice cup of squid tea, don't you think so, boys?"

Sirius showered the desk with his mouthful of tea, spitting it out in horror. Harry froze with the cup halfway to his mouth. He politely plastered a smile on his face and slowly inched the cup away from him.

"I suppose not, then," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "Very well. So, Harry, do explain to me how you, a thirteen year old boy, came to be in possession of a highly powerful, Ministry-regulated magical artifact, and why you had attempted to travel twenty days back in time."

"You - you told me not to say anything to anyone," Harry said. "Before I left. You told me not to be seen or heard or I could trample all the events of time and create a paradox."

"Yes, I understand that," Dumbledore nodded. "I'm planning on obliviating young Sirius here, as well as Horace and Professor Sprout, and then, lastly, myself, as soon as we send you back to the year you came from. But first, my curiosity begs to know how all of this came to be, before I erase all memories of this situation."

"Obliviate me?" Sirius sat upright. "No! You can't do that!"

"It must be done, Sirius," Dumbledore said. "Just knowing that this boy exists will jeopardize the future."

"But he just got here," Sirius said. "And he's my godson," he glanced over at Harry quickly then looked away. "We can't just send him away."

"Sirius, please understand-"

"Do you know how excited James would be to know that he and Evans are going to get married and have a kid? And I'm the godfather! They found me trustworthy enough to be a godfather!" Sirius simply could not contain his excitement any longer and turned to face Harry with the biggest grin the boy had ever seen on his godfather's face. "Future Godson, tell me, what am I like? Am I as handsome as I am now? Stupid question, of course I am. How rich am I? How long is the trail of women I've left heartbroken in my wake? How did James get Lily to marry him? Is your middle name Elvendork? Because James and I have always said that it's such a wonderful, unisex name-"

"Don't say a word, Harry," Dumbledore warned. "However tempting it may be, you will be jeopardizing the future."

"Oh, so when _you_ want answers, it's all fine and dandy," Sirius said. "But when I have some burning questions, they're jeopardizing the future? What does it matter, if you're just going to obliviate me, anyhow?" Seeing the look on Dumbledore's face, he politely added,_ "sir"_ a moment later.

"Mr. Black, please calm down."

"You calm down! I won't calm down! I can't calm down! I will have order in the court!" Sirius rose from his seat and knelt beside Harry. "Come on, Prongs junior, you've got to come see your old man, before he becomes an old man."

Harry's eyes lit up. He got out of his seat so quickly the chair nearly tipped over, and within moments Sirius was taking him by the arm and leading him to the door. The giddy pair didn't make it very far, however, because no sooner than they reached the door did it seal up with a loud bang.

Sirius had never seen Dumbledore angry before. He'd always imagined the day he finally saw a spark of anger in the powerful wizard's eyes, it would strike fear into his flippant soul.

That wasn't what happened. Instead, Sirius laughed at his angry expression, still not releasing his grip on Harry's arm.

"Professor," Sirius began. "With all due respect, it's not necessary-"

"Do you not understand how dangerous this is, Sirius? Do you, Harry?" the headmaster said darkly. "You can't go gallivanting with him around the castle, Sirius. The moment anyone sees him, the future could unravel to pieces. Harry, I must have told you this, if I'm the one who gave you the Time Turner, as you claim. I must have explained to you, stressed the utmost importance, of how dangerous it could be if anyone spots you. The future is at stake, here. You must care about that."

Harry glanced down at the floor, biting his lip. Sirius immediately had the vision of Lily, recalled seeing her look down and gnaw at her lower lip whenever James had succeeded at bothering her, or if she'd gotten a low score on an exam.

Then Harry looked up and his green eyes blazed as bright as hers, burning with the same energy as both hers and James' did.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I_ don't, _I _can't _care," Harry said. "The future is_ rubbish."_

* * *

_THE FOLLOWING DAY_

"This is utter rubbish," Lily despaired, looking down towards her Transfiguration essay. "It's just rubbish."

"Oh, come off it, Lily," Marlene said. "You're probably going to get an O for this. Since when have you ever gotten a bad mark in McGonagall's class?"

"I don't mean the essay," Lily said. "I mean," she waved her arms around. "this! It's all rubbish. Look at everyone."

Marlene craned her neck and looked around the room, at the students hunched over their classwork and the few at the back who were cheerily discussing the upcoming Halloween ball. Marlene let out a low whistle.

"I see what you mean. These monsters must be dealt with."

"No, seriously, I mean it," Lily said. "Why is everyone so...normal today? Did they not see the headlines in the Daily Prophet?"

"About the cauldron leaks?"

"NO!" Lily nearly shrieked. When everyone in the room turned in their seats to stare at her quizzically, she lowered her voice and said, "About the Death Eater attacks."

"Oh, rubbish," Marlene scoffed. "When are they going to give it a rest? It's all paranoia."

"Paranoia, Marlene?" Lily said. "Paranoia, that muggleborns are being murdered across Britain and other parts of the world? Paranoia, that three Ministry officials were murdered last night, the word 'traitor' spelled out in their blood across the walls of their office? Paranoia, Marlene?"

"Lily, keep your voice down," Marlene hissed, staring straight ahead while she smoothed down her pleated skirt. "No one wants to hear about that morbidness. It's just a rough patch right now, that's all. It'll all blow over."

"It started a year ago - _publicly!_ Who knows how long ago it had been going on before that, in secret?" Lily said. "It's not just going to blow over."

"Lily, stop," Marlene said, chewing her bottom lip. "Just let it go, alright? Everyone's excited about Halloween."

"I just feel like...something evil, something wicked...is heading our way, and nobody has any idea what's coming," Lily said quietly, staring out the tall, murky window beside their desk, where the rain was battering, the fog smearing ghostly patterns over the glass so that the vast, blackness of the lake beyond was just a shadow in the gloom. "And I just can't help but feel that there's just...nothing good coming."

"Lily, stop joking around."

"I'm being serious."

"Lily, if you were being Sirius, you'd probably be piss drunk and wearing a fedora. The boy hasn't been seen since dinner last night, so I assume he'd been hitting the Firewhiskey pretty hard. Probably hungover in a ditch. Skived off all our morning classes; I'm surprised Professor Sprout hasn't said anything. Our big assignment was due today...then again, when does Sirius ever turn in assignments?"

"You seem awfully interested in Sirius."

"Shut up, Evans. It's hard not to be interested. He's like a car wreck; it's awful but you can't tear your eyes away."

"Mmm, sure," Lily said in an appeasing tone.

"Like you're one to talk. I'm surprised your eyes aren't glued to Potter right now, like they'd been all bloody morning."

"Same reason, Mckinnon. He's just a very interesting car wreck."

"Very interesting indeed."

Outside of the classroom, however, the halls were abuzz with the news from the Ministry. Sure, the students of Hogwarts had heard about the killings, had heard about the tortures, but never before had there been anything written in blood. This seemed to disturb the student body more than usual, and as a result, the students went further out of their way to simply not care, to shut out the bad world outside the castle walls and ignore the cold, shivering dread in the pits of their stomachs that howled louder than the wind, louder than the tree branches scraping at the windows. The prefects hung up more decorations, the girls held more gossip sessions, the Slytherins and Gryffindors got testier with each other, and the Ravenclaws read more books. Anything to keep them busy.

For nobody wanted to think about 'blood traitors' or 'mudbloods' or the one they were starting to call You-Know-Who, and nobody wanted to be the first one to bring up the daily dreadful news at the breakfast table, so students simply stopped reading the papers.

It would all blow over soon, they told themselves. It's just paranoia. Tomorrow it will be over. We are safe and sound inside of Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's watchful eye, in the ward of our trusty teachers. That's what everyone thought.

They couldn't possibly know that in their headmaster's office sat a young boy, born from their very own Head Boy and Head Girl, orphaned by a war that had not happened yet.

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**Please review because I love you all dearly! Goodnight!- _(or morning?)_**


	4. Eye of newt and toe of frog

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for reviewing the last chapter. Reviews make me soooo happy! Praise Merlin I haven't died of heat stroke. This chapter never would've gotten written.**

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Sirius couldn't be sure if it had been a good or terribly bad idea to hex open the door to Albus Dumbledore's office to make an escape.

In his defense, he hadn't_ broken _it. He really didn't want to have to sit through a lecture from McGonagall on the disrespetfulness and dangers of damaging school property - particularly the headmaster's property - and running off to 'gallivant' with his time traveling godson he'd been specifically prohibited from gallivanting with.

To be perfectly honest - though Sirius would never admit it to anyone - he sort of panicked when Dumbledore sealed the door. He'd wanted to send Harry back to where he came from - but didn't Professor McGonagall give a short lesson in fourth year about the dangers of time travel, and why Time Turners were strictly regulated by the Ministry? Things went wrong; time could rip and fold and swallow you up if you made one wrong step, and what kind of Future Godfather would he be if he let that happen to Harry? He tightened his grip on Harry's arm as he led the boy around a corner and down a dim, torchlit stairwell.

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Dumbledore at the bottom of those stairs, but he did reel back in shock, holding an arm out to move Harry behind him.

"Sirius," the old professor sighed. "I'm sorry if I frightened you-"

"I wasn't _frightened," _Sirius scoffed. "Marauders don't get frightened."

"I understand what you must be thinking, and I've decided perhaps I was a bit too quick to make a decision. Why don't the two of you come back up to my office, and we'll discuss this reasonably? If it helps matters, we'll see if Professor McGonagall wouldn't mind joining."

Five minutes later and Sirius was sitting glumly in front of the headmaster's desk again, trying to sneak quick, apprehensive looks over at Harry, as if to make sure he was still there, only they didn't go unnotticed as he'd hoped; every time he looked over, Harry was looking back at him, looking rather amazed about something.

"Am I more gorgeous than you remembered from the future?" Sirius joked. "I know, it's hard to come to terms with this kind of beauty. It's devastating. Thirteen girls cried when I passed them in the hall today. Two were teachers."

Harry looked amused but didn't say anything.

A moment later he spoke.

"You're just...different," Harry said.

"Different how?" Sirius asked. "Please tell me I've grown a handlebar mustache in the future, because I've always wanted one of those."

Harry frowned and quickly looked away. Sirius' stomach suddenly felt uneasy, though he didn't know why.

A few seconds later the door opened and in came Professor McGonagall, halfway through a conversation with Dumbledore.

"-don't know what this is all about, but I've a handful of Hufflepuffs waiting to recieve their extra credit assignments, and a first years Slytherin hanging from a chandelier - I do suspect Potter and Black had something to do wi- oh, Merlin! Sirius!" she gasped with a start upon seeing him, holding a hand over her heart. "I didn't know you were here. And Potter, how did you get up here so fast? I just saw you down-"

She suddenly faltered upon seeing the boy seated next to Sirius. She paused, took off her spectacles, cleansed them with the flick of her wand, rubbed them with the sleeve of her robes, and then placed them back on her face.

Then she cried out in shock.

"Good heavens," she said. "Who in Merlin's name is this? Potter...is that you?"

"This boy here, Minerva," Dumbledore said with a smile, gesturing to Harry. "Is James Potter's cousin, Harry Potter."

Harry and Sirius both looked up in surprise.

"But - cousin, you say?" Minerva looked baffled, her eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Dumbledore. "James Potter's cousin?"

"Indeed."

"But the resemblance is so -" McGonagall trailed off, seeming to have no words. "But...the boy's eyes. And something else about his face...is it the nose? There's something. There's something so...Lily Evans."

"Do you think so?" Dumbledore said, looking genuinely interested. He peered at Harry's face as if he had no idea what Professor McGonagall was talking about. After a few moments he nodded and said, "Oh, how odd. He does look a bit like Lily, as well, doesn't he?"

"His eyes in particular are _extraordinarily _like hers."

"I thought the boy's eyes look more like Claudine's," Dumbledore said, and Sirius knew he was referring to Mary McDonald's green eyed cat. The man was cleverer than Sirius had ever given him credit for. "Now, to get back onto the origin of this meeting: Harry here has had a bit of debacle at his old school - something about missing transcripts and a Barn Owl - and needed to transfer here for the remainder of the semester. I am telling you because he just tried on the Sorting Hat and was placed in Gryffindor."

"Is that so?" McGonagall said with a smile, seeming to recover from her initial shock. "Well, then, Mister...Potter...welcome to Gryffindor House."

Only after McGonagall was gone, still looking rather thrown off, did Harry and Sirius speak up.

"Why'd you lie to her?"

"Can I really stay for the remainder of the semester?"

"How does she get her hair buns so tight?"

"How'd you know I'm a Gryffindor?"

Dumbledore sat down at his desk and raised a hand signaling for them to be quiet.

"As much as I hate to lie to Minerva, the fewer people who know about this, the better things will go. It will be a risk, but I'm afraid there aren't many better options. The process of going forward in time is much more difficult than going backward, and requires much stronger magic. I'm afraid that, for now, you will have to stay, Harry."

Sirius grinned. He tried to read the look on Harry's face, but it was hard to tell what the boy was feeling. His eyes went wide as saucers, and he looked a bit mystified.

"I knew that if Professor McGonagall - by far the sharpest, cleverest woman I've ever met - could believe that you are your father's cousin, then we won't have much trouble getting the rest of the school to believe it as well," Dumbledore explained.

He locked eyes with Harry and smiled.

"You wonder how I know you're a Gryffindor. The obvious answer is because you are the son of Lily and James Potter," Dumbledore said. "The deeper answer is...Harry, my dear boy, how many young boys would boldly travel back in time, knowing the dangers and the risks? If you weren't a Gryffindor before, I'm sure the Sorting Hat would change its mind now."

Harry beamed.

* * *

Lily sat at her usual seat in the Gryffindor common room, trying to concentrate on her potions homework while simultaneously trying to keep up conversation with Marlene and Mary.

She looked across the room to James, who, as usual, was surrounded by a throng of admiring girls. Lily felt compelled to roll her eyes at his arrogance, out of force of habit, but stopped to notice that, for once, he wasn't flirting with them, wasn't even sitting back and enjoying the attention. He was frowning, staring down at his parchment and occasionally muttering replies.

Despite herself, Lily wondered where Sirius and Remus were. Peter was sitting in the chair across from James, but he might as well have been invisible, for all the attention James paid him. Though it wasn't her place to judge, Lily always got the feeling that James' friendship wasn't the same as it was with the others; it was rather...hollow.

She wanted to get up and shout at the girls and threaten to dock points, but knew she didn't actually have a reason. She wasn't sure why she cared, but they seemed to be bothering him. He didn't look up to entertaining crowds of twittering girls, today. She almost wanted to offer to hex them for him, but remembered with a sigh that she was Head Girl and likely not allowed to do that. And since when did she hex people on Potter's behalf, anyway? He was perfectly capable of hexing people on his own.

"Staring at Potter, again?" Marlene teased. "When are you going to give it up?"

"I'm not staring at Potter. I'm wondering why those stupid girls don't sit down and do some homework instead of fondling the boy's hair."

"He does have nice hair."

"Hair he purposely tries to mess up," Lily said, and tried to sound annoyed, but her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't seen him purposely muss up his hair in about a year; she was fairly certain the mess was always natural now, like it had a life of its own and rebelled against any hairbrush he took to it. She looked back down at her essay and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "What a git."

Mary snorted.

"When are you going to just snog him already?"

Lily stared straight ahead for a moment, feeling her heartbeat all the way to her fingertips, throbbing over the quill frozen in her hand.

"I was just kidding," Mary said quickly to the strange look passing over Lily's face. "Don't be cross."

"No." Lily shook her head. "I'm not cross."

Suddenly, as if posessed by some unknown spirit, she rose to her feet, knocking all her parchment and quills to the floor. Marlene cried in protest as Lily stomped away from the couch and over to the chair where James sat.

The entire Gryffindor common room seemed to be watching, stopping whatever they were doing to oberve the spectacle that was surely about to unfold. James looked up as she approached, and opened his mouth to speak whatever sarcastic remark he was ready with, but nobody would ever know what he was going to say, because right then Lily put her hands on the back of his chair and kissed him

Time seemed to stop. Somewhere at the other side of the castle, a pin dropped, and it could be heard very clearly. Only when Lily pulled away did the missing Remus come down from the boys' dormitory.

"James, I found the map, it was underneath the -" Remus was saying but stopped when he realized his voice was echoing quite loudly, and that everyone else had gone silent. He looked over to where Lily and James were in the middle of the room, flushed and gasping, their faces inches apart. He dropped his arms to his side with a groan. "Oh, come on! I missed it?"

Lily stared down at James, who looked confused and surprised, but not unpleasantly so; in fact, he looked rather euphoric. Then she leaned in close to whisper in his ear, "I just sucked out your soul, Potter," before turning on her heel and heading up to the girls dormitory, turning around only once to flash a sweet, triumphant smile.

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**Please review again, lovelies! Tata!**


	5. Wool of bat and tongue of dog

**Author's note: Hello, hi there. I am too tired to write a proper cheery greeting. I am half asleep as I publish this. Do enjoy and please review. You are all wonderful. Night, all.**

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The worst thing about nightmares is the possibility of reality behind them.

Not ones about skeletons or goblins or Red Caps or the kind of monsters you learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts, or the ones you were supposed to be afraid of, like Remus - but nightmares of locked doors and empty corridors and cold, biting wind, of things you'd forgotten and wished you didn't remember again. The kind with spiraling staircases and crying family members gathered round a coffin, with wilting flowers and dingy cellars, and horrible truths that reeked of the real world outside the walls of your head.

James knew he was only dreaming but that didn't make it any better.

He'd gone to bed with a dopey smile on his face as he thought of Lily's kiss, and her smile as she slipped into the dormitory and shut the door behind her, but when he rolled over to say goodnight to Sirius, he found the bed uncharacteristically neat and unoccupied for the second night in a row, and at once he remembered that Sirius had not been seen in over a day.

In a heartbeat the headlines of The Daily Prophet flitted to his mind; "three slaughtered at Ministry, Minister offers no comment," "six muggle children publicly Cruciated in Bristol, memories erased by Ministry officials but psychological scarring remains," "half-blood child tortured in Knockturn Alley flat, remains in critical condition at Saint Mungo's."

And he'd prepared to tell himself what everyone was always telling themselves these days - 'don't worry about it, the Aurors will deal with it, everything will blow over soon.'

But he suddenly felt, like a blow to the chest that knocked the wind out of him, that this was just the beginning.

A sudden fear washed over him like ice water - one he'd never even considered before. That if things didn't turn around, someday, he would have to bring a child into this disturbing world.

He felt as if the down comforter were strangling him.

_Half-blood child tortured in Knockturn Alley flat._

He pictured the horror stricken parents - a pureblood and a muggle perhaps, or a muggleborn - recieving news of their child having been tortured in a shady alleyway in wizarding London, in some Death Eater's flat, imagining their wands turned on him or her, imagining the child writhing in pain, pleading for help, biting their lip in agony until it split open and blood spattered the floor beneath their head.

"I'm never having kids," James said out loud to the quiet room, a sort of cold terror choking him.

He'd never felt terror so acutely before, and the fact that he was worrying about this drove home an even greater terror: he was growing up.

It wasn't third year. He and Sirius weren't gallivanting around the castle, hexing Slytherins and anyone else who got in their way simply because they could. They weren't wisemouthing to McGonagall or skiving off all of their classes. And as much as he tried to ignore the whispers, ignore the warnings, James couldn't help but feel the war taking its toll on them all already, and it hadn't even began yet.

It was the first time he'd really worried about anything. He'd listened to his parents squabble about him, about whether or not he should be allowed on Sirius' flying motorbike, or if he should be allowed out late at night, or let to have Firewhiskey - as if he wouldn't do what he liked anyway.

But adult fears always seemed so distant, so laughable, so pointless.

He felt them holding him at wandpoint now.

He sat up in bed, trembling and shivering and sweating all at once, and he didn't know if he wanted to strip all his clothes off or huddle up in the blankets. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and loosened the buttons on his collar, gasping for air.

He was never bringing a child into this war.

"Didja say somethin, Prongs?" Peter mumbled into his pillow at the other side of the room.

James jumped at the sound of the voice.

Peter lay on his side, a sliver of moonlight carving shadows into the hollows of his face from the curtains. James wasn't sure why he was unnerved by the sight of him right then.

"No," he said rather snappishly. "Go to sleep."

Where was Sirius?, he wondered for the hundredth time all day. He'd missed all of his classes, and though McGonagall said she'd seen him in Dumbledore's office and that he needn't worry, he simply couldn't stop. Why was he with Dumbledore and not in class?

When Remus had finally found the map, James couldn't find Sirius on it.

Shaking and uneasy, James made himself lay back down, but he fell into a terrible, fitful sleep. He tossed and turned and was plagued with horrible images.

First were the six muggle children, writhing in pain on the concrete ground of a playground, screaming for mothers who could not possibly save them, and next came the half-blood child tortured in Knockturn Alley - James didn't know what they looked like, or if they were a boy or a girl, so he imagined all sorts of children, screaming in blinding pain from all sorts of curses that made their veins pop out of their foreheads and their fingernails bite into their palms, drawing blood.

Then, with a sharper grief than the nameless children, he saw his friends. Sirius, dead on the floor, the word 'blood traitor' scrawled in his own blood above him. Remus, captured by the Ministry, accused of working for Voldemort, and formally executed.

He saw Lily, shouting across a room to him words he could not hear over the terrible roaring in his ears, her mouth moving frantically, her eyes wide with fear.

Lily, disappearing in a flash, in a green blaze.

And lastly, most disturbing of all, though he didn't know why, he saw a green eye staring out at him through the keyhole of a cupboard beneath a flight of stairs, and a shape like a bolt of lightning carved into a canvas of smooth skin, livid against the pale complexion.

He woke up with a jolt as if he'd been electrocuted, gasping as if he'd been held under water, and did not go back to sleep that night. He sat up in his bed and peered out the window, seeing that green eye every time he blinked into the waning moon.


	6. Adder's fork and blind worm's sting

**Hello again, everyone. I'm sorry this is so short but it's either that or I don't update for longer, and I've felt that I delayed this chapter long enough. Thanks for waiting!**

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Sirius Orion Black had almost never kept a secret - hardly even knew how. The only secret he'd ever kept guarded with his life had been Remus' "furry little problem", and that particular secret had not been burdened upon him alone; he'd had Peter and James to shoulder it with, and with Remus' condition, he fully understood why he had to keep his mouth shut, and was never once tempted to tell anyone.

But keep a secret from James? James Potter, Prongs, his best mate, his _brother?_ A secret that he wanted to shout from the hilltops, from the Astronomy tower, to throw open all the windows and let everyone know because this, this impossible secret, was the brightest spark of joy this grim reality had seen?

He shouldn't. He _wouldn't. _

But would he?

At the end of the day, Dumbledore knew best, didn't he? He knew time travel better than Sirius did, and knew the laws and complexities and dangers of magic better than just about everyone. If he told Sirius it would be unsafe to tell, then perhaps, though he didn't want to, he had better let this secret sleep.

In the guttering light of the fire, shadows fell across the hearth, reaching and crumpling like emaciated hands. Soft firelight fell across Harry's face as he slept, as still as a statue where he lay all but for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Sirius was transfixed by that bit of light, rooted to it, mesmerized by the soft angles of the young boy's face in the glow - so that when a sudden, shuddering draft blew in the curtains and snuffed out the fire like a candle and the room fell into heavy darkness, Sirius gasped and fell from his seat, his heart racing in his chest as he looked around the dark.

The embers of the fire scattered over the earth and burned out like the ends of cigarettes, trailing smoke up to the darkness. Far overhead, high above the looming stone walls, the massive chandelier rocked, its bolts and chains creaking loudly in the quiet gloom. Sirius was frozen, his every muscle tensed in place. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up, honing in on small noises; the hissing and pop of the dying coals and the sparks spit out into the dark, the rustling of the chandeliers quaking above, and a low, quiet drone buried beneath all the other sounds, a low, constant whisper:

_"Harry."_

Sirius cried out and reached in the dark. His hands fumbled for his wand uselessly for a long, heart racing moment before he brandished it out over his head.

"Lumos!"

Light flared from the end of his wand, illuminating his surroundings. He waved it around, his fingers trembling in a way that made him feel not very much like a Gryffindor. The chandelier was still creaking as if it had been pushed, the coals still dying in the fire. In the corner of his eye, a dark shape blurred by somewhere above him, and with his heart frozen in his chest he flailed around with a wave of his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

There was a crack and an earsplitting groan like tearing metal, and a thunderous bang somewhere overhead that sent him flying back over the side of the couch. His tooth pierced his lip when he hit the floor, spitting blood across fissures of stone as he rolled. The floor was thrumming beneath his ear, a metallic sort of din ringing throughout the room. As he lay groaning, feeling the back of his head for bruises, he suddenly went cold all over, as he was overcome with the creeping sensation that something was right above him. He was seized with a sudden sort of maddening terror he'd never known before, and it was only the sudden thought of Harry that gave him the courage and the reason to tilt his chin up to meet the pair of red eyes staring down from the ceiling, where a black figure was splayed out like a dark star.

_"Who are you?" _he screamed. _"What the hell do you want?"_

He jumped to his feet but was knocked back by some invisible force with a blow to the face. His wand clattered away in the dark, out of reach, as blood gushed from his nose and seeped through the cracks of his fingers. He reeled backwards, staring around madly, useless.

He'd only had a moment to think that, after years of being at the top of the Hogwarts food chain, of smacking people down and holding Slytherins at his mercy, of prowling the halls with a hunger for the fight and the sense of safety popularity and physical strength can give you, he should now find himself trapped, cornered in like a piece of prey, waiting for the predator.

"What do you want?"

The thing stared down at him and something like a laugh rasped from its throat, and then Sirius saw: among the folds of a black cloak in the thing's long, spindly arms, Harry's pallid face stared down, his lips frozen, green eyes wide with terror before he disappeared in a roar of flames and a scream that jarred Sirius awake.

* * *

James did not say a word for perhaps any of his classes the day following the Kiss of Seven Years, as the student body had taken to calling it between the moment Lily and James had disappeared to the dormitories and the wee hours of the morning. There was a lot of speculation as to why he was slumping around in a daze - most suspected he was in shock, and that long-awaited kisses can do that to you. Others suspected he was frightened over the troubling news of Death Eaters in the Daily Prophet that morning. Remus and Peter were more likely to guess it was over the strange absence of Sirius, but if someone were to guess it was a mixture of all three, they would probably be right.

"Professor!" James shouted as he caught sight of Dumbledore's silver beard in the corridor after lunch. He was deeply engrossed in conversation with Professor McGonagall, their heads bowed as they left the Great Hall. He slung his back over his shoulder and went running after the pair before they disappeared in the bustling crowds of students. "Professor Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore's head turned for a moment as if he were going to answer, but then suddenly he faced forward again and moved at a quicker pace, so quick McGonagall had to rush to keep up with him on their way up the stairs.

"Professor!" James shouted.

As Professor Dumbledore ascended onto the next landing, the staircase disjointed and started to turn towards the west, as Dumbledore continued up the stairs to the east wing. James stopped and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his heart pounding. As the silver wisps of the headmaster's beard were only slightly visible on the crowded stairs, James remembered a stupid joke Sirius made last week about how the old wizard should plait his beard into sections, and he was suddenly inspired into recklessness. Without pausing to think, he climbed up onto the railing, and as the staircase careened back, leaped forward with all his might.

There was a collective gasp throughout the entrance hall below as he soared overhead, as shrieks from onlooking girls chorused from the stairs, but he could hardly hear anything over the beating of his heart as the floor came rushing towards him.

But then, at the last possible moment before he fell two stories to his impending broken bones, the staircase jolted forward within reach as he grabbed for the banister. Within moments he was clambering over it to tumultuous applause and cheers, and a hundred sighs of relief. He only had minutes to run before he was faced with a hundred detention slips.

"Professor!" he shouted, panting, when he saw Dumbledore just at the landing above.

The old wizard stopped. His shoulders slumped for a moment, as if he was heaving a great sigh, but when he turned around his face was cheery.

"Why, hello there, James!" Dumbledore said. "That was quite a stunt you pulled down there. I was almost afraid for a moment that you would miss and go plummeting downwards, but, as always, your reflexes prove themselves to be remarkable. What can I help you with?"

"You saw me jump onto the staircase?" James asked.

"Yes, my dear boy. I believe everyone might have seen it."

"If you saw me jump, you _must've _seen me running after you, or heard me calling you. Why didn't you stop?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

"Whatever do you mean, James? I was just on my way up to Professor McGonagall's office for some afternoon tea, however I -"

"Professor," James said, gritting his teeth to keep from saying some clever things to the headmaster he would regret immediately after. "Where's Sirius?"

"Young Sirius Black? I'm not sure. Perhaps your friends will have seen him."

"He hasn't been around for two days. All the teachers keep saying he's on vacation, but he wouldn't go on vacation without telling me, and where the hell would he even be going, at this time of year, anyway? And every time I look at the map, I see his name, in your office."

"A map? What map are you speaking of?"

"Our map. It shows the entire school and everyone in it. I'm certain you must've heard about it. Everyone knows about it, much to our chagrin."

"The entire school and everyone in it, you say? That's quite an impressive bit of magic, James. How does it work?"

James waved his hand impatiently.

"No need to get into the logistics right now, professor, but it shows a name for each person and wherever they are in that moment, if they're on the school grounds. And Sirius _is _on school grounds. In your office. And he's been there for two nights." The headmaster looked as if he were going to say something, but then James went on. "And there's two other people there with him, but for some odd reason, their names won't show up. And that's so - so _odd - _because names _always _show up. You can't trick the map. There's no way of tricking it."

For the first time James could ever recall, the headmaster looked puzzled.

"Hold on for a moment there, James. Did you say you see two other people there with Sirius?"

"So you're admitting Sirius is there! I knew it! Why?"

"James, please. What do you mean, there's two other people there? Are you certain there's two? Not one? There's _two?"_

"I know how to count, professor. There's two people up there. They've been there all night."

And James had never seen the headmaster run before, either. But there's always a first for everything.

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**Sorry for making you guys wait so long. Please review and I'll try to update as soon as I can? :D**

**Love you all! TTFN.**


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